


The Height of Narcissism

by vgersix



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: Mirror Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Kirk, Caves, Consent Issues, Dark, Dubious Consent, Fighting Kink, Hate Sex, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mirror Sex, Mirror Universe, Mirrorverse, POV Kirk, Self-cest, Sensory Deprivation, Sex In A Cave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 11:44:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2427476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vgersix/pseuds/vgersix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For vulcan-ology, who asked for Kirk/Kirk. Not sure this is exactly what she had in mind, but it's what happened in my brain. *shrug*</p><p>Kirk and Mirror!Kirk are trying to transport Mirror!Kirk back to his universe, and part of their trip takes them through an underground cave. When the flashlight dies, they end up scrambling in the dark, and Mirror!Kirk takes this opportunity to, ahem, take advantage of the situation. </p><p>First person POV, if you're into that.</p><p>Anyway here’s Wonderwall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Height of Narcissism

He looks like me, sounds like me. Christ, he even smells like me.

“-the hell are you staring at?” he says, looking me up and down with utter disgust.

“I- Nothing. I just-“ I can’t get over how this guy rattles me. You’d think an exact replica of yourself would be easy enough to get along with, but there’s just something about him that puts me completely off my game. I’m a stuttering idiot. It’s like I can barely string a sentence together without stumbling over my own words around this guy.

“You just what?” He steps into my personal space, closing the gap between us in less than a second, and I flinch backward.

_Fuck, what is wrong with me? Stand your goddamn ground, Jim._

I take a breath and ball my fists at my sides. “I just want to get this done. Let’s go.”

It’s been three days since the incident that resulted in the appearance of this identical twin of myself. He showed up on B deck, confused, trying to fight his way to the bridge and shouting about mutiny and treason and demanding the three security guards it took to subdue him to “Give me your agonizer, you piece of shit!”

Now here we are, picking our way through a dimly lit series of caves on Phasus IV, a recently discovered Class M planet that Spock has hypothesized as the source of the plasma burst that resulted in the appearance of what he’s been calling, “Alternate Kirk.” Very creative, that Spock.

There’s a grunt of frustration from my companion ahead. “God damn it!” I hear what sounds like a boot meeting rock, and the beam of his flashlight bounces its way back toward me.

“It’s a fucking dead end! You sure this map is right?” he says, glaring at me with teeth bared. The deep shadows cast by the flashlight make him look like a rabid animal, hungry for its next meal.  
“Spock charted this map from the sonar pings we sent down, but it’s not an exact science,” I say. “The plasma storm kept messing with the signal. It’s a wonder he was able to parse any of it.” I take a deep breath, trying not to let my own frustration show. My doppelgänger has enough for the both of us, by the looks of it.

He shoves past me, muttering something under his breath.

All right, I’ve had it with this guy.

“Hey!” I shout after him, “What did you say?”

He whirls on me. “I said, if the _real_ Spock were here he’d have figured this all out and had me home by now!”

I let out another sigh and look down at the map again. There’s no sense in starting a fight. That’s one thing I’ve learned from (the apparently less than real) Spock over the last year. Controlling my emotions. Not flying off the handle or rising to a fight. Sometimes, oftentimes, it’s better to have a more diplomatic approach. _Hm… Maybe that last right turn? If we go back the way we came and keep going straight…_

“Hey!” he’s up in my business again, so close his hot breath hits me in the face, making me take another step back. Why do I feel like I’m constantly losing ground here?

“Hey!” he says, “You hear what I said that time? Or are you deaf _and_ stupid?”

I resist the urge to shout and calmly reply, “Look, can we just agree to-“

The flashlight flickers once, twice, and plunges us into total darkness.

It would almost be funny, if it weren’t a life-threatening situation. Almost.

A huff of breath escapes my lips. Then another. Then a full on giggle. I double over laughing and put my hands on my knees for balance. It’s a nervous response. When I was a kid I’d always get in trouble for laughing at inopportune moments. I never quite grew out of it.

At first I think this cave must have a serious echo, but then I realize — it’s him. He’s laughing too. We’re both standing here, in a pitch-black cave on an unmapped planet, laughing like a couple of idiots.

“Wow,” I say. “Okay, now we’re fucked.”

“Yeah,” he says, closer than I expected him to be. And then his lips are on mine; hot breath and tongue in my mouth.

I plant my hands on his chest and thrust him away into the darkness. There’s a splash of water and a scramble against rock as he falls to the ground — coupled with more laughter.

“Hey, not bad,” he says, his voice not quite so close now. I must have pushed him harder than I thought.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I choke, running a hand over my face at the spittle he left there.

“Oh, come on,” he says, and it sounds like he’s righting himself from the puddle I shoved him into. “You liked it.”

“You are one sick-“ I trail off. There’s no point. There’s no point in even engaging him in conversation anymore. I’ve got to focus on the mission. Find the path toward the signal point, and get him back to wherever he came from. Then beam back to the _Enterprise_ and forget this whole thing ever happened.

“—fuck?” he whispers, right in my ear. I recoil, trip over a rock and am halfway to the ground when his hands slip under my armpits, heaving me up.

“W-What?” I sputter.

“You were gonna say that I’m one sick fuck. Yeah?” his hand slides leisurely from my chest to my hip, and I feel a shiver run down my spine. I shift away, nearly tripping over my own feet in the process.

He chuckles in the dark and I dig into my tool bag with shaking hands to find the map. “Yeah,” I say, voice trembling. “You are.”

A hand darts out and jerks the map away from me. His other arm curls around my waist, pulling me toward him.

“Hey!” I start to protest but then his mouth, a mirror image of my own mouth, is there again, kissing mine. His hand is pressing hard against my back, pushing our bodies together.

His teeth bite into my bottom lip as he pulls away.

I’m gasping to catch my breath.

The blue light of the map readout in his other hand casts both our faces in a soft glow. Now there’s no mistaking it, when I look up at him he’s openly leering at me.

“Stop that,” I say.

“Why?” he smirks. “Too narcissistic for your taste?”

I reach for the map. “Listen, do you want to go home or not?”

“Yeah, but what’s the hurry?” he says, holding the map at arm’s length.

I sputter in frustration. “Look, ten minutes ago you were ready to get out of here!”

“Ten minutes ago I didn’t have your dick poking me in the leg through your pants.”

My eyes go wide as I realize he’s right. Jesus. I am rock hard.

He takes my silence as an admission I guess, because the next second he’s flipped me around with my back to his chest, and starts working on the button of my pants.

“Hey,” I gasp. “Stop—”

His teeth graze my neck and he bites down on my shoulder.

“Ow, fuck! Ow!” I stammer, leaning away from him.

“Oh, shut up. You are such a cry baby,” he says as he shoves my pants down, pressing one knee between my legs to force them open.

I let out a noise somewhere between a gasp and a squeal. Either way, it’s an embarrassing noise. He chuckles into the crook of my neck, and wraps his fist around my cock.

“Oh, Jesus—“ I mutter involuntarily.

“I said, shut the fuck up,” he grunts, pressing against me from behind. And, god help me, I can feel his dick through his pants and the level of urgency I feel about having it _out_ of his pants quite frankly alarms me.

Fuck, _am_ I this narcissistic? I mean, this has got to be the height of narcissism. Fucking your own identical twin. But no, it’s actually worse than that. A twin is at least another person. Twins are two different people who just happen to look mostly the same — siblings. This guy is literally me. An exact copy of me. Different universe, different upbringing, sure. Different life experiences. But none of that changes the fact that he is James Tiberius Kirk, son of George and Winona Kirk, Captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise, and he is about to fuck me in the ass. And I have never been more turned on in my life.

_The fuck is wrong with me._

He bends me over one of the boulders we’d tripped on earlier and I hear him struggling to get his own pants undone. I flinch at his hand running down the crack of my ass and there’s something wet there. Saliva? I don’t ask. It’s all I can do to keep my heart from hammering out of my chest.

My own dick is throbbing and I reach down to touch myself. I let out a little moan of pleasure at the sensation — he’d left me halfway gone and I feel swollen, needing to finish.

“What are you doing?” he says. His voice is raspy, like he could use a drink of water. I lick my own parched lips. I’m thirsty too.

“Nothing,” I say.

He presses my ass cheeks apart and shoves in. I can’t help it; I let out a scream.

“You son of a—“ I start, but his mouth silences me with an angry kiss.

“You don’t do that.” He bats my hand away from my cock. “I do that.” And bless him; he starts pumping me hard again.

For all his roughness, he goes easy on me from behind. He presses in just a little at a time, until finally our bodies are flush and my back arches in a mixture of agony and bliss at the feeling of fullness there.

Jesus Christ, I’ve been fucked in the ass before but somehow this is different. It’s like he knows all my little physical quirks — exactly how I like to be touched and how I don’t. But of course he does. How could he not?

I start to come and I feel him go rigid against my back as he comes too. He bites down on my shoulder, harder than before, and I don’t even care. A litany of curses shoots rapid fire out of his mouth but then he’s kissing me again and his curses turn to moans of ecstasy. I can’t even tell who’s who anymore; the same voice humming into one another’s throats as we finish in a messy shot of cum from my cock.

He breaks the kiss with a huff. “Did you seriously start before me, and finish last?” he mutters into my shoulder, clearly annoyed.

“Uh, I think so?” I clear my throat, gasping for breath. God, I really need some of that water now.

“You motherfucker,” he says, pulling away and letting me slump to the ground in a heap of exhausted limbs.

For a few seconds I feel bereft at the lack of touch. He’s gone. I hear him moving around in the darkness; sounds of fabric against stone, and I assume he’s just pulling his clothes back on.

Well, I guess I should have known better than to expect any tenderness here. It’s not like he was gonna cuddle me afterwards. Asshole.

But then he’s next to me again and I feel cool steel against my arm.

“Here,” he says. “You thirsty?”

I take a swig from the canteen, and smile. This guy--he’s not so bad, I guess.

I’m still grinning like an idiot when the flashlight pops on, bathing the room in light.

“What are you smiling about, Cry Baby?” he says. “Put your fucking pants on. Time to go.”

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr: [k/s blog](http://spirkian.tumblr.com/) | [personal blog](http://vgersix.tumblr.com) | [email me](mailto:vgersixwrites@gmail.com)


End file.
